She comes to the waterfall the way water comes to itself on impulse, remembering its own nature. The nine-yard saree moves with her the same way. That white cloth hasn't yet remembered its cloth. I sometimes think they must both believe they're the river.

Her charm gives her the name of a siren, just like Medusa, who was the priestess of Athena. Her charm and the ability to see through you frighten everyone. And then the myth of demonising isolates her. Truth has its own cost, and she bears it on the tip of the whip. When she wields it in her hand and cracks it, the hypnotised heart comes to its senses.

आयुष्यातील सर्वात सुंदर क्षणांपैकी एक म्हणजे पावसात भिजणे. आज जो पाऊस आहे तो उद्या वाट पाहायला लावेल, कधी आपणच त्याच्यापर्यंत पोहोचू शकणार नाही. तो कोसळताना आपण निर्माण केलेले कुठलेही भेद तो पाहत नाही. आपण सर्व त्याच्यातूनच निर्माण झालेलो आपल्या आत खेळणारा तोच. जेव्हा तो नर्तन करायला येतो तेव्हा आपण बाहेर पडायलाच हवे. मग ती लहान मुले असोत, वृद्ध असोत, मुली असोत, स्त्रिया असोत कोणीही असो. त्या नर्तनातले, भिजण्यातले सुख हेच खरे नैसर्गिक सुख. कोणी पाहो वा आपण एकटे असू तो पाऊस

I have always carried this question inside me like water carries the light. Bending and blending it beautifully. Why is a man drawn toward beauty ? Why do we seek cinema, photographs, paintings, sculptures? Why do we fall in love not only with the beauty but also the reflection of beauty ?

"Even as she lifts the water-pot to her head, her waist bends like a vine in the wind. O traveller, why do you hurry? Stay a little. The road can wait." -Gatha Saptashati She is not the nayika of perfumed chambers. She is closer to the poetry of a couplet immediate, unadorned and devastating.Someone who doesn't mind disappearing into the ripple of water or rising on wind like a bird's feather has already made her peace with impermanence.

She Who Is the Earth Remembering Herself There are mornings when the forest holds its breath. On the juncture of the first ray of the sun touching down into the valley when everything is still. Only the birds have just awakened and started their routine chirping. When the pond does not ripple so much as breathe a slow, silver exhaling that has no beginning and no end. When the breeze does not move the trees but moves through them, the way a raga moves through a musician’s li

A conceptual shoot portraying the pure elemental beauty depicted in white. Sensual feminine form in the white fabric, white cowry jewellery , the white coral remains of the ocean, waves on the clean beach.

अनादी काळापासून या धरणीवरती वारा आपल्या मस्तीत वाहतोय. कधी तुफान तर कधी वावटळ कधी सोसाट्याने तर कधी गुंजारव करीत. तुम्ही कधी त्याला बदलू शकता का किंवा तसा प्रयत्न केला का ? तुम्ही कधी त्याला दोष दिला तर कधी त्याच्या शीतलतेने प्रेमात पडले पण तो मात्र तसाच वाहतोय. समुद्राच्या लाटांना हाकारीत, गवताळ कुरणावरून लहान मुलासारखा नक्षी बनवीत तर रानावनात जोरजोरात शिट्ट्या मारीत. फारतर आपण पवनचक्कीने त्याची ऊर्जा स्वतःसाठी वापरू शकतो किंवा बासरीतून सुंदर संगीत निर्माण करू शकतो. परंतु त्

She is not down to earth — she is the earth herself.She lives by the cosmic truth, connected to the pulse of creation, breathing in rhythm with the soil and the stars. She bleeds with the waxing and waning of the moon, gives birth, nourishes, and transforms seeds into beings that walk this sacred plane. She is the most beautiful manifestation of the five elements — earth, water, fire, air, and ether — fused into a single, breathing cosmos. She is SuraSundari — bold, beautiful

What we’re making is not just art to be “looked at” — it’s something to be felt slowly, like poetry unfolding. We want to bring you closer to a time when love, dance, poetry, and celebration were a natural part of life. A time when women were honoured as sacred, when festivals like Vasant Utsav filled both villages and palaces with joy, and when beauty was not the tool of capitalism but seen as something sacred and beyond the physical.

जगापासून दूर अरण्यात राहणारी ती. तिच्या सोबतीला आहे एक समृद्ध जंगल आणि तिच्यासारखीच एकटी नदी. अगदी नितळ आणि पारदर्शी. Living far off from...